


you taught me the courage of the stars

by strawhatmikans



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Getting Together, M/M, PacRim - Freeform, Space Academy, Spaceships!, Star Wars/Pacific Rim AU, The Drift (Pacific Rim), i geek out more than necessary and borrow gratuitously from star wars im sorry, jihoon's the best pilot in the sector and a lightspeed junkie, lots of drift, space guilds!, the pacific rim in space au no one asked for, winter soldier escalator kiss scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawhatmikans/pseuds/strawhatmikans
Summary: “I can’t believe you made out with me on the first date.”“Youmade out withme—”“I can’t believewemade out on the first—”“Please just shut up.”in which Jihoon and Woojin are Rangers, copilots of the all-pink, all-awesome starship X2699 (better known as the Pink Sausage), and Woojin doesn’t know what to do with his feelings.





	you taught me the courage of the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jisungist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisungist/gifts).



> this is a weird pacific rim/star wars AU but if you're not familiar with either one it should be ok! the only thing you miiiight want to familiarize yourself with beforehand is [the drift](http://pacificrim.wikia.com/wiki/Drift) (esp if you're a nerd like me and love sci fi things) since it features prominently. i explain it in the fic though, so it's perfectly fine to go into this without any prior knowledge!! 
> 
> writing this was a wild ride, i hope you enjoy! for sri <3

“Hey, Pink Sausages! New mission for you guys.”

 

Woojin ducks out from under the Pink Sausage (officially known as Krysilyon freight-class starfighter X2699, but the last time someone called it that was before Jihoon and Woojin laid their eyes on it) and turns to see Minhyun waving a holopad and deftly weaving his way around the bustle of mechanics and Rangers and ships in the Wanna One hangar.

 

“Thank Kwath, it’s been too long,” Woojin says, grinning as he wipes his grease-stained hands on his yellow work coveralls.

 

Minhyun crinkles his nose at the action. He hands over the holopad, grimacing as they make contact with Woojin’s dirty hands. Woojin makes sure to get as much grease on the pad as possible as he gives it a few cursory swipes. He doesn’t understand how Minhyun has survived being Jaehwan’s copilot for so long. Minhyun sighs, a long suffering sound, and instead of scolding him, asks, “Where’s Jihoon?”

 

 

“Daniel discovered that the cafeteria’s serving a new kind of chicken today, so Jihoon ditched me to go eat chicken with him.” After a moment, Woojin pointedly adds, “and left me to do Sausage maintenance by myself.”

 

Minhyun can’t help but smile at the fondness in Woojin’s voice. It’s snarky, but anyone can tell there isn’t a single ounce of real annoyance. It’s cute. Woojin’s obliviousness to the way Jihoon has him wrapped around his little finger is also cute, if not a little (a lot) frustrating.

 

“Park Woojin, do I hear you complaining about me?” Jihoon appears from behind the Sausage, a small takeout container in his hand. “Cause I brought you chicken but I might just eat it myself—oh, hey Minhyun. Want some chicken?”

 

“Thanks, but I already got some with Seongwoo earlier. I have senior Rangers meeting now, but I gave Woojin the brief for your new mission.” Jihoon’s face splits into a wide smile. “If everything’s okay, you two are cleared to leave tonight. Good luck.” Minhyun pats them both on the shoulders and looks at Woojin, Jihoon, then Woojin again. His gaze is far too pointed than Woojin would like, and the wink is just _unnecessary_. As Minhyun leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “Make Woojin clean his hands before eating the chicken!”

 

Jihoon takes the holopad from Woojin’s hands and replaces it with the container of chicken. “Finally, it’s been almost two months.” The Sausage got badly damaged their last mission two months ago, and while they were waiting for repairs, there was far too much hanging around the base doing nothing than the two of them are capable of dealing with. They sparred in the Kwoon Room until they couldn’t move, then they took some small solo missions which were more like errands, then they sparred some more. (Woojin’s forearm is still bruised from when Jihoon accidentally hit him a little too hard with a staff two days ago.) In between, Jihoon ate everything in the kitchens and Woojin harassed Daehwi until the latter left with Jinyoung for a mission last week. “What’s it about?”

 

“Don’t know,” Woojin says around a mouthful of chicken. He doesn’t clean his hands.

 

“And why is it covered in grease?” Jihoon sighs, already knowing the answer. Cause Park Woojin is an immature little shit, that’s why.

 

Woojin just grins at him, chicken in his teeth, dirty coveralls rolled down to his waist, thin white tank sticking to his torso with sweat, and Jihoon can’t help but grin back. “Why are you wearing your coveralls like that? You look like a delinquent.”

 

Woojin punches him in the shoulder, Jihoon shoves him back, and Jihoon loves this, a glow of excitement surrounding them, just hours away from getting to fly a real Ranger mission again.

 

Woojin climbs onto the Sausage first, and pulls Jihoon up with the hand not occupied by chicken. They sit side by side in the open hatch, legs hanging over the side, and go through the mission brief together.

 

It seems simple, just a gang harassing a small town on Naidoo, a minor planet ten or so star systems away. The request comes from the mayor, a man named Wahiti, who reports livestock being stolen at night and a barn being set on fire. The gang’s activity seems innocuous enough, until they get to the second screen and are faced with a report about the kidnapping of a nine year old boy a few days ago. No one was hurt.

 

The town had been counting on law enforcement from the capital planet of the system, and when they didn’t get a response, they hired Wanna One. It’s common for Ranger guilds like Wanna One to fill in the holes law enforcement all too often leaves in the galaxy, since they’re independent, private companies that hire Rangers that choose not to enter the army after graduating from an Academy, instead cutting off political and military ties to their homeworlds. Because they recruit from Academies all over the galaxy, strange friendships form despite vast political, cultural, or even species differences. For example, Daniel and Seongwoo’s homeworld is currently at war with Minhyun and Jaehwan’s, but the four get along like a house on fire (it’s unfortunate how appropriate that comparison can be sometimes). Of Wanna One’s thirteen or so Ranger pairs that live full-time on the small deep space station, along with teams of mechanics and technicians, Woojin and Jihoon are one of the youngest pairs, only three years out of the Busaur system Ranger Academy. Though everyone stopped calling the almost obnoxiously talented pair “rookies” years ago after just two or three missions (in comparison, Jinyoung and Daehwi have been in Wanna One for over a year now, and much to their annoyance, everyone still affectionately calls them the rookies), they still only get the easier jobs. The no-fun stuff. It’s standard procedure.

 

This job is no different. It doesn’t seem to involve any particularly nasty ties to annoyingly well-funded crime organizations with big ships and bigger guns, nor does it seem to be entangled in corrupt political dogfights. Easy stuff, if not for the fact that once again, Woojin has to spend at least a week in a cramped, pressurized space with his stupidly attractive copilot and his stupidly persistent, mild (Woojin would like to emphasize _mild_ ) crush on said copilot.

 

It probably says something pretty sad about Woojin’s life that _that’s_ what he considers to be the hardest part of a Ranger mission.

 

———————

 

_3 years ago._

 

“Congratulations, trainees. You have nearly completed the Ranger training program. Today, Drift compatibility evaluation day, is one of your very last hurdles before being able to graduate as full-fledged Rangers,” the head technician says, in front of sixty-one trainees standing at attention. “Complete the simulation exercises as you would normally. The Drift Assistant For Trainees will then evaluate your Drift capability, piloting and gunning aptitude, as well as combat style, and pair you with another trainee.” It’s mildly annoying to Woojin that she always insists on saying Drift Assistant For Trainees instead of D.A.F.T. like everyone else. “You will run simulations together until the Drift Assistant deems you a match or pairs you up with someone else for further testing.”

 

Drift compatibility evaluation day is when most trainees are cut or left back. Some transfer to another Academy in hopes of finding a match there, others choose to drop into the traditional piloting track. Woojin’s a little nervous about the matching part—he has some of the best combat scores in the class, but his Drift compatibility scores have always hovered below average. Low Drift compatibility means low chance of graduating, because everyone knows you can’t fly a Krysilyon if you can’t Drift with someone else. The very foundation of Ranger piloting is the idea that two pilots, two minds joined together, can do what is impossible for one mind. When mechanics first developed Krysilyon class spaceships, which were impossibly fast for a chunk of metal so loaded with weaponry, they discovered that the only way a pilot could achieve the reaction speeds and precision required to fly one to its full potential was to neurally link a pilot and a ship. Called the Drift, it would eliminate the time between a pilot’s reaction and the ship’s movement. However, the neural load of flying such a large and powerful ship proved to be overwhelming for one mind, so a scientist found a way to temporarily join two human minds into one consciousness in order to bear the burden of flying a Krysilyon ship.

 

Woojin’s problem is that he can’t think of anyone that he might be able to Drift successfully enough with. In practice, he’s held a decent Drift before with Hyungseob and Yoojung, but Hyungseob is a gunner like Woojin and everyone knows that Yoojung is going to get paired with Doyeon (the two put up Drift compatibility scores high enough to pass as a seasoned Ranger pair). The only other pilots he can tentatively imagine being able to Drift with are Mina, Seunghyuk, and Hyunmin. Haknyeon’s off the table because he’s seen how that kid pilots and he can tell they wouldn’t last two seconds together. He likes Mina, Seunghyuk, and Hyunmin, but he just can’t imagine developing the close, lifelong bond Rangers are known to have with their partners with any of them.

 

He sweeps the doubts to the back of his mind. He’s wanted to be a Ranger since he was a child, and Drift compatibility isn’t going to stop him. _If not this year, next year_ , he thinks, then he shoves that thought aside as well. He’s going to be fine. Maybe he’ll even discover that he has some hidden Drift potential with Haknyeon.

 

Five minutes later, Woojin climbs into a simulation Pod, hands and feet falling into familiar motions. The hatch slides closed as he settles into the white pilot’s seat. There’s only one seat in simulation Pods, but if today’s Drift compatibility tests go well, in a matter of weeks he would be sitting in one of two white seats in his very own spaceship. He would be a real Ranger. But first, today, he has to find a copilot.

 

D.A.F.T. greets him, and the simulations go as well they normally do. Woojin manages to put up scores only a few points off his highest ever. As D.A.F.T. evaluates whatever it needs to evaluate in order to match him, the doubts begin to creep back in.

 

But before Woojin can stew in them, the screen changes. _Match found_ , it reads, and Woojin feels his heartbeat speed up. The screen changes again, and information about his match slowly materializes. The simulation score that appears, one number at a time, is... unreal. Woojin has never seen anything like it. He’s only heard rumors of such high scores, and only about _legends_ , like—

 

“Park Jihoon,” D.A.F.T. says in its usual pleasant but unimpressed voice as Jihoon’s name and picture appear at the top of the screen. “Your match is class of 2X45 trainee pilot Park Jihoon.”

 

Woojin can only stare at the screen blankly. Confused, he even pushes a few random buttons to check if maybe the Pod is malfunctioning or if D.A.F.T. has, well, gone daft at last.

 

Park Jihoon, as in the Academy prodigy who completed the program in half the expected time and has held the highest trainee simulation score in the sector (and, rumor says, the eighth highest in the known galaxy) for the last few years? Park Jihoon, as in the trainee who failed all of the Drift compatibility evaluation tests he’s taken in the past two years despite his astronomical Drift compatibility score because no one could keep up with him? Park Jihoon, the guy with the startlingly pretty eyes Woojin often sees in the Kwoon Room but has never spoken to because he’s small and cute but intimidating as fuck and always busy beating the shit out of his sparring partners? That Park Jihoon?

 

The screen changes, but instead of reading “Haha, you just got PUNK’D!”, it’s a simple black background with two small, blinking white circles. “Initiate Drift with Park Jihoon?”

 

D.A.F.T. is barely finished speaking when the blinking circle on the right stops blinking. “Park Jihoon is ready to enter Drift.”

 

What? Park Jihoon wants to initiate Drift with him? Park Jihoon’s pretty fucking _hyped_ to Drift with him, if the speed at which his circle stopped blinking says anything. Woojin is trying and failing to wrap his head around the fact that Park Jihoon is sitting in a white seat exactly like Woojin’s in a Pod across the room, reading Woojin’s stats, and telling D.A.F.T. to initiate Drift with Park Woojin. What?

 

Woojin blinks slowly and forces his mouth to move. He manages to force out, “Initiate Drift with Park Jihoon.”

 

The left circle stops blinking, then the screen goes dark. “Initiating Drift.”

 

Woojin has never been more nervous or, strangely, excited in his life.

 

Thirty seconds later, D.A.F.T. says, “Engaging neural synchronization,” and he feels himself drop into the cold, vast in-between space. Immediately, he senses another presence there.

 

Woojin has to consciously stop himself from flinching back from it. It’s huge, charismatic and intense in a way he’s never felt before from any of the trainees he’s test Drifted with. It’s also exuding a calm confidence that feels comforting and friendly (if not a little—okay, a lot—intimidating) instead of cocky.  
  
Jihoon’s consciousness doesn’t move, but it almost feels like it’s reaching out a hand. Woojin pushes down the urge to steel himself and takes it.

 

Jihoon’s mind is... gentle. Vast and has a confident kind of power to it that makes Woojin feel a little small, but gentle. Woojin doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. The stories had made it seem like people couldn’t handle the great mind of a genius pilot and got forcefully thrown out of the Drift because they couldn’t hang on.

 

There’s a weird ripple in his mind. It takes Woojin a second to realize it’s Jihoon mentally _snorting_. The sound is so random, so sudden, that Woojin startles enough to shake their connection a little.

 

 _Hey, Woojin_.

 

The connection settles again, the sensation reminding Woojin of a camera refocusing. He can feel Jihoon smiling, then he realizes _he’s_ smiling, then he remembers _oh_ , _that’s kind of the point of the Drift._

 

Jihoon laughs. The simulation blinks to life in front of them. _Ready, Park?_

 

_Of course, Park two._

 

———————

 

Jihoon and Woojin bicker their way into their black flight suits (with matching Pink Sausage crests, courtesy of Wanna One), into their kitchen for a quick dinner, out of their shared rooms, and all the way through the winding corridors of the Wanna One station and into the main hangar.

 

Jisung spots them right away. Standing next to the Pink Sausage, he waves the two of them over. “Mechanics team has checked the Sausage and stocked it with supplies. You two are good to go. Sungwoon’s monitoring from Command.”

 

Jihoon and Woojin get pulled in customary Jisung hugs, then as they separate and begin to board the Sausage, Jisung pointedly reminds them to not “do anything stupid, I swear to Kwath, don’t go wild and screw around just because the mission’s too easy. Wanna One has a _reputation_ , and I will not stand for you two—”

 

The two of them exchange grins, reassure Jisung, and wave goodbye. It feels good to be in the Sausage cockpit again, getting ready to take off for a mission.

 

Sungwoon’s voice greets them over the intercom as they get ready and begin flicking and tapping the controls. They’ve done this so many times now that they could probably do this in their sleep. A minute later, the Sausage quietly awakes and Jihoon begins taxi mode.

 

“Maybe figure your shit out by the time you two come back, Woojin?” Sungwoon calls over the intercom.

 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t say anything as he guides the ship to the runway. “Maybe grow a little taller by the time we come back, Sungwoon?” Woojin snaps back. What the fuck. Jihoon’s the only one with a mental connection to him, so how the fuck does _everyone_ _else_ in this stupid guild know?

 

Sungwoon just snorts. “Rangers, ready to enter Drift?”

 

“Yes,” Jihoon says, stopping the Sausage on the runway and tossing Woojin his Drift headgear.

 

Damn Sungwoon and his stupid reminder. Woojin immediately starts pulling up his mental barriers, guiding the walls around the thoughts he’d really rather Jihoon never see. Mental barriers are a necessity for Rangers and are taught early on in the Academy’s psych training—everyone has their secrets and sometimes a partnership is better when some things are kept in the dark. Woojin and Jihoon are probably among the Ranger pairs that share the most, but even they are used to the feeling of hitting a wall when they enter the Drift and settle into each other’s minds. It was startling the first time it happened and still a bit of a surprise every time, but they learned quickly to not press.

 

They fall into the Drift easily. Sungwoon lets out a low whistle at the compatibility graph in command, still not quite used to the scary numbers the Pink Sausages almost always put up. The two lines on the graph are almost one, with far fewer blips and criss-crossing than most Ranger pairs can manage.

 

As they stretch out in each other’s minds and poke around in the familiar space, Woojin feels the moment Jihoon knocks into his wall. There’s a little spark of curiosity, and Jihoon lingers around the edges a bit longer than he usually does. There’s something else, but it disappears behind Jihoon’s own mental barrier so quickly Woojin can’t quite catch it.

 

 _Ready?_ Jihoon’s voice is a warm thrum in their shared mindspace, and Woojin doesn’t need to reply for the same reason Jihoon didn’t really need to ask. Woojin’s excitement is Jihoon’s and Jihoon’s is his.

 

Sungwoon lets them through the forcefield. The Sausage whirrs with life all around him and Jihoon’s presence feels somehow solid, comforting, for something as intangible as the Drift.

 

———————

 

_3 years ago._

 

After Drift compatibility evaluation day, matched pairs have a week to scope one another out and test their bond. At the end of the week, they test pilot a Krysilyon ship and the Academy decides if they’re ready to graduate as Rangers.

 

It’s a lot less awkward getting to know Jihoon than Woojin thought it would be. Having been in each other’s minds already probably has something to do with it, but mostly it might be because they spend most of their time with one another in the Kwoon Room.

 

If the Ranger training program has taught Woojin anything, it’s probably that sometimes bodies speak more eloquently than words and there’s no better way of learning what makes a person tick than attacking them with a staff. Or your fists, if that’s your preferred sparring weapon.

 

The Kwoon Room trains trainees’ reaction speed and combat ability, but it’s most important function is probably as one of the best tests of a Ranger pair’s Drifting potential. There’s something about sparring, Academy instructors have found, that tests how well two people sync.

 

The first time Jihoon and Woojin spar, Woojin realizes it’s probably 100% true that Jihoon has bested the Kwoon Room fightmaster before.

 

Jihoon has him pinned to the mat in less than thirty seconds. The second time, it takes him forty five. The third, a minute.

 

“3-0, Park two.” Jihoon’s smirk is hovering inches away from Woojin’s right cheek (his left is currently being pressed into the mat). Jihoon lets up a little, but he keeps his staff where it is, planted into the mat a hairsbreadth from the side of Woojin’s neck, and he doesn’t get off his chest.

 

Woojin doesn’t even remember that _hey,_ Park two is what _he_ calls _Jihoon_ , not the other way around, because Jihoon’s eyes are doing the sparkly thing again and they’ve never been this close to Woojin’s own. There are beads of sweat caught in his eyelashes and making their way down his flushed cheeks, and—

 

If Woojin has to pinpoint the moment when his heart stopped listening to him, that was probably it.

 

Their fourth fight is the first time Woojin beats Jihoon. He’s half sure to this day that Jihoon let him win, but that didn’t matter, because that was the first time the two of them had felt truly in sync, staffs weaving around each other’s bodies so fast an onlooker would’ve only been able to make out a blur.

 

If Woojin has to pinpoint the moment when he knew with certainty he was going to become a damn good Ranger, that was probably it.

 

———————

 

Jihoon loves to use the hyperdrive a little too much, and his favorite part isn’t even the way space warps around them as they enter hyperspace and accelerate to light speed. No, it has to be the part where he exits hyperspace at the very last second and nearly crashes the Sausage into Naidoo at light speed, because that’s the kind of showy asshole he is.

 

Thankfully Naidoo is a small minor planet, because last time Jihoon pulled this shit on Lorcasin and their communication channels went absolutely haywire with traffic because what the fuck, a Krysilyon fighter just dropped into their _atmosphere_. Not to mention the part where they almost got shot down by a spooked Lorcasin navy destroyer because ships bigger than a S1 DYE fighter simply _don’t_ exit hyperspace so close to a planet. Sane people prefer not to meet their end crashing into a planet at lightspeed.

 

Their communications still _do_ immediately choke up with traffic, but it’s not even close to what Woojin’s used to seeing by now. He just sighs and adjusts his cup of coffee to keep it from spilling as the Sausage lurches out of hyperspace. Jihoon’s whooping obnoxiously, and honestly it’s way too early in the morning for this.

 

But a job is a job, so the two of them manage to secure a spot in the small Naidoo hangar and Woojin manages to evolve into a functioning human being by the time they meet Mayor Wahiti.

 

Mayor Wahiti is an underwhelming figure, a little shorter than Jihoon and old and wrinkly in an unimpressive way, unable to carry his age in the intimidating, wise way some elders can. He can only provide a little more information than their brief did.

 

The townspeople suspect that the gang harassing them is stationed on a nearby moon (there are six moons close enough to Naidoo to be possible hideouts), and they are rumored to hang out on Naidoo every weekend and leave ridiculous graffiti on the farms they raid. Honestly, they sound like a group of bored teenagers unfortunately in possession of a couple starfighters. Dropouts from a naval Academy, maybe?

 

But the kidnapping part of the story is a little unsettling. The Mayor gives them more information on the boy, directions to the boy’s family farm, and reassurance that his grandfather has been informed of the investigation and is willing to give Jihoon and Woojin any information that they need.

 

They spend the rest of the day and all of the next following leads around town and speaking with the grandfather. They learn that the little boy’s name is Lai Guanlin, and that he was playing outside next door when the gang grabbed him. The gang usually only operated at night, but they must have felt particularly gutsy that day because they tried stealing grain at five in the afternoon, only to find themselves face to face with the barrel of Guanlin’s neighbor’s blaster. In a panic, one of them grabbed Guanlin and they flew away by the time the town’s small law enforcement force was alerted.

 

They’re told that there’s nothing the force, made up of four outdated, rusty heaps of metal with barely functioning engines, can do about the gang. The gang has grown so gutsy they have taken to hanging out in the town during the day as a rowdy group of young adults, because no one has managed to get any solid evidence that they’re the ones behind the crimes.

 

Saturday afternoon, they follow the information from one of their leads into Naidoo’s only mall. They’re sitting in a small, popular diner when Jihoon spots what he assumes to be the gang enter over Woojin’s shoulder. The youngest of the group looks to be about Jihoon and Woojin’s age, the oldest maybe just a few years older than that. They settle into a booth on the other side of the diner, behind Woojin and directly in front of Jihoon.

 

Woojin and Jihoon quickly formulate a plan. There’s no sure way of knowing that that _is_ indeed the gang, so _no Woojin, we can’t just shoot them now_. They settle on dropping a tracker on the group. If the tracker tracks them to one of the moons, where Guanlin is most likely being kept, Woojin and Jihoon will hopefully be able to launch an attack and flush out all the gang members, or at the very least rescue Guanlin.

 

Woojin volunteers to drop the tracker. Jihoon squints at him.

 

“Don’t look at me like that, I need to go to the bathroom anyways and it’d be easy to just drop the tracker on them on the way.”

 

Jihoon squints some more just to piss Woojin off, but relents easily with a dry “Okay, but don’t fuck up, you awkward loser.”

 

Woojin flips him the bird as he walks towards the gang’s table. Eight seconds later, he successfully drops the tracker into one of the their bags. A second after that, he trips and falls on his face. Right in front of the gang.

 

Jihoon wonders, not for the first time, what it says about him that he has such perfect Drift compatibility with Park Woojin, awkward loser extraordinaire, a picture of grace in the Kwoon Room and in the cockpit but an absolute disaster everywhere else. He hears Woojin squeak out a “Sorry!” at the group before scuttling off to the bathroom. Jihoon sighs. At least he didn’t  run his mouth and completely blow their cover like he did on Amidaly four months ago.

 

The group stares after Woojin, and Jihoon’s probably not imagining the suspicion in their eyes. He’s definitely not imagining the way the guy that looks like their ringleader whispers something to the group and gestures at Jihoon’s table. Jihoon immediately busies himself with the menu and tries very hard not to facepalm dramatically when he remembers something one of their leads told them: the gang had already suspected that Naidoo would turn to a private guild and send Rangers after them, and the sudden, unnecessarily showy appearance of a Krysilyon spaceship over Naidoo had pretty much confirmed their suspicion. Now the gang is on the lookout for Rangers in town. Oops. That one’s on him.

 

When Woojin returns, his mouth starts working at record speeds before he even sits down. “Are they looking at us right now? They’re looking at us right now, aren’t they, what do we do, wow I fucked up—”

 

“Act normal, Woojin, I swear to god,” Jihoon says with a sweet smile on his face.

 

“Why are you smiling at me like that.”

 

“I’m trying to make it look like we’re on a date, okay—”

 

Woojin chokes, turns vaguely red, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but no sound comes out.

 

“ _What_ , I’m just trying to save our asses here and not look suspicious because _you_ can’t act natural for your life, _sweetie pie_.” Jihoon’s pretty sure his eye is twitching, but he just reaches out across the table and holds Woojin’s hand, praying that it looks like a sweet gesture and not look like he’s squeezing it really hard in a vaguely threatening, _please just play along or I’m gonna punch you when we get back on the Sausage,_  way.

 

Before Woojin can stop gaping like a fish and actually say something or, Kwath forbid, snatch his hand away and smack Jihoon, the waitress comes to take their order.

 

“What would you boys like today?”

 

Jihoon says “the couple order” as loudly as he can, making sure to move his lips around the words obviously. Hopefully the gang is watching.

 

Woojin makes a face at him from across the table.

 

The waitress smiles indulgently at them. “Of course! You two are adorable. Anything else?”

 

“No, thank you!” Jihoon smiles brightly.

 

Woojin pretends to throw up.

 

Jihoon tries to roll his eyes in an amused, definitely not annoyed, boyfriend way.

 

“Okay, how do we get out of here uncompromised?” Woojin asks as soon as the waitress leaves, because he may be an awkward loser but he’s still a professional on a job.

 

Jihoon lets out a long suffering sigh before remembering that his face is still very much in sight of the gang and tacking on an indulgent smile. “I say we get out of this mall as quickly and naturally as possible, take the Sausage out of the hangar and land it somewhere more inconspicuous, then stay low for a few days in the ship. We have to do some maintenance on the hyperdrive motivator anyway.”

 

Woojin nods in agreement. It helps with the whole Ranger thing that he and Jihoon are usually on the same wavelength. After a moment, he adds, “We’re going to eat our food first though.”

 

Jihoon snorts. “Thank _fuck,_ Woojin, if you’d said we should leave without eating our eggs and bacon I would have smacked you, fake dating shit or not.”

 

As if on cue, the waitress comes with their food. “Enjoy, boys,” she trills, and the look on Woojin’s face would be a lot scarier if it wasn’t tempered by the steaming plates of diner food in front of them.

 

They wolf down their breakfast in silence, until Jihoon says, with his mouth full of scrambled eggs, “The gang keeps glancing at us. When we’re done we really have to blast, quickly but _naturally_ , do you know what that means, Park two.”

 

“Can you shut up and let me eat my bacon in peace, Park three?”

 

“Park three?” Jihoon makes a face, his cheeks still round with food and honestly it should be gross but Woojin wants to kick himself because it somehow looks adorable. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  
“If I have to be Park two then you’re Park three. It makes perfect sense, but you know what, Jihoon, it’s okay that you don’t get it. That’s why you’re Park three.”

 

It’s getting really difficult to gaze across the table at Woojin with love rather than murderous intent in his eyes, but Woojin scoops his own portion of the cheesy scrambled eggs (Jihoon's favorite) onto Jihoon's plate, and hey, that definitely helps.

 

Ten minutes later, they pay for the food with Wanna One’s money (ah, that never gets any less satisfying) and stand up to leave. Jihoon grabs Woojin’s hand and laces their fingers together.

 

It would be a lot easier for Woojin to ignore the way his heart is trying to beat its way out of his ribcage if the action wasn’t so natural, if Jihoon’s hand wasn’t so fucking _soft_. In fact, everything would be a lot easier if Woojin didn’t wish that this stupid hand holding was real, not just an act.

 

In Jihoon’s humble opinion, they make a rather smooth exit from the diner. No tripping, no awkward face-to-floor contact. As far as he can tell, the gang is still rowdily enjoying their food.

 

Less than two hundred feet out of the diner’s doors, Jihoon wants to eat his words. There’s definitely a tail trailing about twenty feet behind them, Jihoon’s pretty sure the suspicious looking guy leaning against a display window thirty feet to the right hasn’t taken his eyes off of them since they came out of the diner, and Woojin points out another man stopping to look at a map just ten or so feet in front of them. He’s holding it upside down. The tails are clearly inexperienced, but there’s clearly way more gang members than they were expecting, and anything less than fifty feet away is far, far too close for comfort.

 

But Woojin and Jihoon have played this game more than once. They have experience on their side, and they barely need to say anything to each other as they calmly make their way towards the mall exit. It quickly becomes apparent that their tails, now five in number, sloppy as they might be, are determined to block them from the exits. It’s also clear that they haven’t gotten a clear look at the two of them yet, and aren’t entirely sure what Jihoon and Woojin look like. That makes things a lot easier.

 

As soon as they lose all five tails for a moment, Woojin pulls Jihoon into a busy department store and the two of them quickly shed their jackets. Woojin tugs his hood over his head and Jihoon tucks a cap over his hair. It’s not the best disguise, far from it, but it will have to do.

 

They duck out of the store as inconspicuously as possible and get on the escalator in an attempt to get to the third floor exit, but because the galaxy hates them Jihoon immediately spots one of their tails. “Don’t look, one of them is coming up right now on the other escalator. He’s staring at us.”

 

Woojin’s eyes widen. “What do we do what do we do what do we—”

 

There’s no time to second guess himself. Without any warning, Jihoon fists Woojin’s collar with one hand, slides the other into his hair, and kisses him. His tongue is already tracing the seam of Woojin’s lips when Woojin finally registers what’s happening, and his mouth drops open in shock. Jihoon immediately slides his tongue into his mouth, and when Woojin hesitantly presses back, he pulls Woojin’s bottom lip between his teeth. Woojin makes a surprised sound that sounds embarrassingly like a squeak. It’s sloppy and entirely inappropriate for a bustling mall in the middle of the day, but Woojin tastes like the milk toast from the diner and something else that Jihoon finds himself chasing for far longer than he means to. When Jihoon finally pulls back, his face is uncomfortably warm and he clears his throat, looking away from Woojin. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.” His voice is too high.

 

Woojin can only swallow and pray that Jihoon can’t hear his heart trying to escape his ribcage. He can’t pull his eyes away from Jihoon’s red, swollen mouth. His voice is tiny and hoarse when he says, without looking away, “Well, it worked.”

 

Sure enough, their tail is stepping off the escalator and walking in the other direction without a backwards glance.

 

Jihoon reaches for Woojin’s hand, then seems to think better of it. His hand drops back to his side, and he simply says, “Let’s go,” before stepping off the escalator without a glance back at Woojin.

 

The two of them book it out of the mall as fast as possible while looking like normal young people on a date. Woojin blames the persistent flush on his cheeks on the physical exertion of walking really fast. Maybe he’s just out of shape.

 

———————

 

“I can’t believe you made out with me on the first date.”

 

“ _You_ made out with _me_ —”

 

“I can’t believe _we_ made out on the first—“

 

“Please just shut up.”

 

———————

 

There’s something frighteningly domestic and intimate about being a Ranger that no one warns you about at the Academy. It’s inevitable when the most distance you can put between yourself and someone else on a Krypsilyon ship is forty feet and two thin durasteel walls. The Sausage, for example, doesn’t have much beyond a cramped cockpit, one cramped main hold, a cramped bathroom that hasn’t been decontaminated in what smells like years, a cramped engineering bay, and cramped crew bunks.

 

Second, when you sleep, wake up, eat, work, and breathe with someone nearly every day, there are small moments of startling intimacy you’re completely unprepared for.

 

Woojin’s used to this by now. They live in a shared room on the Wanna One base. They sleep in the same room, take turns making food, brush their teeth side by side in the bathroom, watch movies in the living room with Jihoon’s feet on Woojin’s lap or Woojin’s head on Jihoon’s lap, and argue about who has to get up to make more popcorn or grab another blanket.

 

But the Sausage is smaller and there is quite literally nowhere to go when Jihoon catches him off guard. Also, Park Jihoon kind of shoved his tongue down his throat recently, so. That changes things a little.

 

**Exhibit A, one day after The Escalator:**

 

“Jihoon, oh my Kwath, I said the hydrospanner, not the fucking _crowbar_ ,” Woojin groans, swiping a grease-stained hand over his forehead in an attempt to flick away sweat. The only thing it does is streak grease on his forehead.

 

Jihoon grins sheepishly, puts down the crowbar, and hands him the hydrospanner. If there’s one thing about being a Ranger Jihoon’s not a natural genius at, it’s ship maintenance and repairs. Incidentally, it’s also the skill that saves lives because it doesn’t matter how good of a pilot you are if your ship’s engines aren’t working. Incidentally, the part of the ship they’re fixing right now is exactly the part most essential to Jihoon’s favorite way to fly: the hyperdrive motivator.

 

To his credit, he’s trying. He’s only talked back to Woojin five times in the last three hours that they’ve spent working in the maintenance shaft of the Sausage, and he’s covered in nearly as much sweat and grease as Woojin is.

 

“Okay, I think it’s fine now. Good news, we’re not going to suddenly drop out of hyperspace or crash into a planet,” Woojin announces ten minutes later. He straightens up and flicks Jihoon in the forehead. “You’re welcome, you light speed addict.”

 

“Wow, thanks so much, oh great mechanic,” Jihoon says dryly, but the left side of his mouth creeps upwards and his eyes turn into gentle crescents, and Woojin would fix a thousand hyperdrives if Jihoon just keeps looking at him like that. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Woojin coughs loudly because what the fuck, that shit is too fucking soft. No. Out. No soft thoughts about Jihoon while he’s standing barely a foot away in a cramped maintenance shaft together.

 

 _Cough._ “I uh,” _Cough._ “should check on the oxygenator too.” _Cough._ “Wouldn’t want us to run out of oxygen anytime soon,” _Nervously run hand through hair_. “not that I’m having any trouble breathing or anything.” _Laugh awkwardly, crouch down and move around some of the wires in the oxygenator_. _Be cool._

 

Jihoon stifles his laugh behind his hand. “Nope, wouldn’t want to asphyxiate,” he says between escaped giggles.

 

Then Woojin stands up again, so fast they almost knock their foreheads together, and suddenly he’s way too close. They’re toe to toe, and Jihoon reeks of oil and sweat, they both do, but he’s so close he can see the remnants of laughter in Jihoon’s eyes and watch a small drop of sweat make its way down Jihoon’s forehead and catch on an eyebrow hair. It’s entirely unfair how beautiful he looks with streaks of grease on his cheeks and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

 

The hum of the sublight engines in the engineering bay anchors Woojin. Their noses are only an inch apart, and he’s struck with dizzying deja vu, except this time he pulls away before he can get intoxicated. He takes a step back, but for some reason he still can’t breathe.

 

“We should get the oxygenator looked at once we get back,” Woojin says, and his voice is too loud in the small space.

 

Jihoon nods dazedly. Woojin doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick down to his mouth.

 

The oxygenator is working fine—it’s Woojin’s heart that isn’t functioning properly.

 

**Exhibit B, two days after The Escalator:**

 

Woojin’s sitting in the main hold nursing a bowl of cereal and reviewing information gathered by the tracker on a holopad when Jihoon wanders out of their shared bunk, eyes still half closed and hair an absolute disaster.

 

“Hey, there’s coffee in the pot. We have some coordinates on the gang and we—” Woojin does a double take and suddenly his mouth is way, way too dry. The only thing Jihoon’s wearing is a pair of low-hanging sweatpants and what the fuck, how does someone look so soft and fluffy neck up and look like _that_ neck down? It’s not like he hasn’t seen all this before, but for some reason his voice isn’t working right now.

 

After an excruciatingly long silence, Woojin manages to croak out the rest of his sentence: “—should start putting in flight algorithms today.”

 

Jihoon makes a sleepy sound that’s probably agreement, and he goes straight for the coffee. Woojin exhales. He comforts himself with the thought that Jihoon probably stopped paying attention to everything, including Woojin suddenly losing the ability to speak for a solid thirty seconds, after “there’s coffee.” Good. Awesome. He’ll just bring up the flight algorithms later.

 

But when Woojin goes to do just that ten minutes later, he finds a wide awake and fully dressed Jihoon sitting in the cockpit, holopad in hand and already punching in flight algorithms.

 

———————

 

They wait one more day before launching their attack. After their escape from the mall, they’d immediately flown the Sausage out of the Naidoo hangar and landed it in the mountains a couple thousand miles West of the town. Since then, they’ve been lying low, sticking to the ship and its immediate surroundings. If luck is on their side, the gang thinks they’ve left Naidoo for now.

 

Woojin and Jihoon, dressed in their Pink Sausage black flight suits and blasters strapped to their belts, settle into the pilot seats. The tracker was able to give them a specific location on the nearby moon Hesla, and as Jihoon enters the coordinates, Woojin runs checks on all systems and warms them up.

 

They go through the same routine as always, except with one glaring difference. There’s a palpable, lonely kind of silence in Woojin’s head as the Sausage lifts off the ground. Jihoon’s just an arms length away but without the Drift, it feels like he’s flying solo, and that’s a sensation he hasn’t had in three years.

 

By some unspoken agreement they’d skipped entering the Drift. (Like Woojin has said before, they’re usually on the same wavelength. Sometimes it’s not helpful.) Woojin would rather not think too hard about why that is, but it’s obvious it has to do with the way they’ve been tiptoeing around one another for the past few days like they’re trainees getting to know each other in the Kwoon Room again, except worse because Woojin can’t just swing a staff at Jihoon and feel like he’s got him all figured out anymore. They crossed that line a long time ago, and maybe the problem now is that they’ve crossed another and would rather not have the other in their heads while they’re still reeling.

 

Jihoon’s a talented enough pilot that he can fly a Krysilyon ship without a neural bridge almost as gracefully as he can with one. At least, he can lift off and fly on a plotted path from a planet to one of its moons.

 

The gang’s hideout is easy to spot, which is a terrible sign. The bunker is way bigger than Jihoon and Woojin were expecting, and the two don’t need to be Drifting to realize at the exact same moment that this means there’s going to be a lot more starfighters than they were counting on. Whether the gang has enough members to man so many ships is still up in the air.

 

“ _Kriff_ ,” Woojin curses.

 

“Jisung’s rolling in his grave,” Jihoon groans.

 

“Jisung’s not dead, dumbass.”

 

“ _We’re_ about to be, dumbass,” Jihoon snaps. “And Jisung’s doing the _living_ version of rolling in his grave right now.”

 

Woojin can’t argue with that.

 

———————

 

It takes them two minutes into their infiltration of the bunker to realize that yes, there are indeed enough people to man a scary number of starfighters. It’s immediately apparent that they’re a lot more outnumbered than they thought they would be.

 

“Remember, the focus is to get Guanlin. We get him, we get out,” Jihoon whispers as he advances down a corridor, blaster held ready and finger on the trigger.

 

“Roger that,” Woojin whispers back five steps behind Jihoon.

 

It doesn’t take them long. Like the tails at the mall, the gang members they run into are clearly inexperienced. They make the mistake of not sounding the alarm immediately when the spot the Sausages. Woojin and Jihoon make quick work of them, and from there it’s easy to find out where Guanlin’s being kept. They find the room less than eight minutes after entering the bunker.

 

It’s immediately clear upon seeing Guanlin that the gang’s just a group of kids who have no idea what they’re doing. Guanlin’s sitting on a bed, playing with _toys_. There are _toys._ There’s a lock on the door, but no other sign of restrains on the little boy. He’s not roped to a chair, not gagged, not trapped in a burlap sack. No, Guanlin not only looks unharmed but also well-fed.

 

Woojin and Jihoon exchange incredulous looks. The fuck?

 

“Hi! Who are you?” Guanlin asks, waving. The kid doesn’t even look scared.

 

Jihoon’s the first to unfreeze and approach the boy. “I’m Jihoon, and that’s Woojin. We’re here to take you back to your Grandpa, Guanlin.”

 

“Okay,” he says. Then, “You’re pretty, Jihoon. I like you.”

 

Woojin chokes. Jihoon laughs, sounding way too pleased.

 

Jihoon checks Guanlin for injury and asks the boy a few questions as Woojin stands guard by the door. Woojin hears Guanlin express his newfound love for Jihoon at least four more times. Woojin signs. Of course Jihoon captured the kid’s heart in five seconds. At least that will probably make it easier for them to keep an eye on Guanlin, who looks ready to never leave Jihoon’s side again.

 

A minute later, they’re sprinting out of the bunker, Guanlin clinging to Jihoon’s back and alarms blaring. The gang is a mess, seemingly unable to decide between pursuing them and heading for their starfighters.

 

By the time the three of them finally reach the Sausage, they’re wheezing and Jihoon’s lost one of his blasters. Jihoon hands Guanlin off to Woojin and heads straight for the cockpit. Woojin nearly throws Guanlin into one of the seats in the main hold, his hands flying over the straps and buckles. “Don’t worry, okay? We’re going to get you home.”

 

The last buckle snaps into place and Guanlin blinks up at him, not a hint of anxiety or fear in his eyes. “I know. I trust Jihoon!”

 

Woojin scowls. If they weren’t running for their lives right now, he would chew the kid out. But they’re going to need every second of a head start they can get on the gang, so he simply says, “Trust me, too,” before turning away to join Jihoon in the control pod.

 

Jihoon’s already in his pilot seat, all the controls on his side aglow and blinking. His fingers are flying frantically over the control board. By the time Woojin’s seat wraps around him and his own controls blink on, Jihoon has the hyperdrive screen pulled up and the ship is lifting off the ground.

 

“Evaluate hyperspace to Naidoo.” Then Jihoon turns to Woojin with a grin. “Ready for another legendary Pink Sausages escape?”

 

“That’s why I repaired the hyperdrive,” Woojin says dryly.

 

The Sausage pulls out of the atmosphere with three ships on its tail, and their Drift headsets lie conspicuously untouched between their seats. They’ve never made a legendary Pink Sausages escape without the Drift. Woojin knows Jihoon can fly a Krypsilyon ship decently without Drifting, but hell, the two of them used to rarely ever get the Sausage off the ground without first getting in each other’s minds. It was habit to fall into the Drift as soon as they got into their pilot seats. Woojin forcefully shoves that thought to the back of his mind. It’s okay—they can do this the traditional way.

 

Just minutes later, it becomes clear that no, they _can’t_ do this the traditional way. Jihoon’s voice is steady when he says, “We’re going to have to Drift,” but Woojin has known him long enough to detect an edge of apprehension.

 

“What?” Woojin manages to hit the engine of the ship on the far left, and it goes down.

 

“We can’t go into hyperspace, there’s a giant meteor cluster ahead of us. I can’t find another programmed route that we have enough fuel for. We’re going to have to fly through the meteors.”

 

Two more ships take the place of the fallen one. Fuck. Why is there a whole fucking fleet? He glances at Jihoon, who has his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilts the ship into a sharp right. A plasma beam misses the Sausage’s left engine by a hair, and another comes so close to their right plasma blaster it leaves a faint mark on the metal. Most pilots Drifting with their ships wouldn’t have been able to do that. Not for the first time, Woojin’s struck by just how _unbelievable_ Jihoon is.

 

Jihoon smirks, cocky, but his brows are still drawn together in concentration. “Woojin, come on, they’re gonna clip us for real sooner or later. There are too many of them. We _have_ to lose them in the meteor cluster.”

 

Woojin risks a look at the hyperdrive screen. (Damn traditional piloting—he wouldn’t need to check for himself if he was in Jihoon’s head.) The meteor cluster is huge, and the speed the meteors are travelling at is no joke. “What the fuck, Jihoon, this isn’t a simulation.” Woojin ignores the fact that maybe he just doesn’t want to Drift with Jihoon, doesn’t want him in his head right now. And there’s no way they’re getting through those meteors without Drifting. There’s no way Woojin would let Jihoon fly them through that alone. “We’re going to die. You’re crazy.”

 

Jihoon frowns. “Maybe, but I’m also the best pilot in this sector.” He tilts the ship into another hairsbreadth dodge.

 

“ _Guanlin’s_ here and under our responsibility, you dumbass. This is the _worst_ time for you to be showing off!” Woojin manages to hit the closest ship, and it veers wildly to the right.

 

“There’s no other way. We turn around, they shoot us down—”

 

“I thought you were the best pilot—” Woojin’s next two shots hit the ship’s remaining engine, and it goes up in flames.

 

“—we could probably take them but they’re so unpredictable and we’re too outnumbered. I think the meteors are a safer bet. Trust me.” As if to punctuate his words, Jihoon executes a fancy maneuver, letting three plasma beams fly past the Sausage and putting on a burst of speed that pulls them out of their pursuers’ firing range temporarily.

 

Woojin inhales deeply, looks out at the intimidating cluster of meteors, back at Jihoon’s confident smirk, then down at the Drift headgear. Exhale. _Trust me_. Trust. That’s the most important thing about being a Ranger: trust in your copilot. No one flies alone. The Drift will save your life—that’s what every Ranger trainee is told, over and over again.

 

Woojin pulls his gaze back up to meet Jihoon’s. Jihoon’s eyes are serious, and Woojin’s heart swells. There was never a decision to make. “Let’s fly,” he cheers, rolling his eyes but not bothering to bite back his grin. So maybe he’ll have to focus a little harder on his mental barrier, and maybe he’ll have to be careful not to let anything slip, but in the end he trusts Jihoon. To get them through this meteor cluster? Of course. What else though, he isn’t sure.

 

Woojin pushes that thought aside and lets his veins fill with adrenaline as Jihoon grins cockily back at him and tosses him his Drift headgear. He can’t help but whoop as the glowing buttons and screens of the control pod disappear behind the familiar black of the Drift headgear visor. At his left, Jihoon laughs delightedly in response. Their visors blink on, and they face the meteors with wide grins.

 

“Initiate Drift.”

 

Ahead of them, the meteors loom larger and larger. Behind them, four ships fly ever closer into firing range.

 

They’re the Pink Sausages. The best pilot in the entire sector, a damn decent gunner, and the highest Drift compatibility the Academy has seen in decades. Not to mention their all-pink, all-awesome spaceship. They’re not about to back down because of some big flying rocks.

 

———————

 

For the record, Woojin would just like to state that everyone at the Academy is a liar. The simulations are _not_ like the real thing. Woojin thinks he’s pretty qualified to make such a statement because _the meteor cluster simulation at the Academy was easy what the fuck is this oh my Kwath Jihoon are you trying to fucking kill us—_

 

_—no, Woojin, in case you haven’t noticed it’s these big flying rocks that are trying to kill us, I, on the other hand, am trying to save your sorry ass from turning into rock polish._

 

Having Jihoon in his head makes near-death arguing a lot easier.

 

Jihoon makes another sharp dive and loops back around only to be faced by more rocks. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he guides the Sausage into a flat spin between two meteors than banks right so sharply Woojin hears his neck crack. Woojin fires at the next meteor. It explodes into small, relatively harmless rocks, and the Sausage speeds safely through it. It feels good to be one with Jihoon and the Sausage again, one entity making the calls. The half a second it would take for Jihoon to tell Woojin he’s banking right and Woojin should shoot _that_ meteor or the even shorter lapse between Jihoon’s hand on the controls and the Sausage’s thrusters pushing them to the right would result in a big pink splatter on one of these rocks.

 

Then, what feels like hours later, the Sausage slips through two meteors and suddenly there’s nothing more ahead. It feels like air rushing back into the cockpit all at once, like Jihoon’s presence a brand of fire and excitement in Woojin’s mind, like warm pride flooding into the corners of their shared mental space, the sensation somehow winding itself down his spine and making his toes curl. On a high, Woojin lets it slip past his barriers: _I love you_.

 

It doesn’t just slip through, it announces itself, finds Jihoon in the Drift and wraps itself around him, a trail of memories and snapshots and raw  _feeling_ saturating the Drift bond. _Everything_ is there, vivid and amplified, from the memory of Jihoon’s eyes during their very first Kwoon Room fights to Jihoon’s stupidly fluffy hair from two days ago in the main hold. And Jihoon, Jihoon isn’t recoiling from it. He’s _chasing_ it, pinning it down, breathing it in and _fighting_ Woojin’s attempts to put his walls back up.

  
Woojin panics, his side of the Drift seizing. Jihoon’s mind is hiccuping, and somewhere in the blur of memories there’s something there. It’s reaching across the collapsing bridge, trying to get to Woojin, but the bond snaps. They fall out of the Drift so suddenly it feels a little like falling into freezing water from a great height, painful and dizzying.

 

The Sausage lurches wildly to the right until Jihoon manages to stabilize the ship again.

 

Woojin feels nauseous.

 

———————

 

They don’t speak or make eye contact the entire way back to Naidoo. It’s not awkward so much as it’s thick and suffocating. Woojin doesn’t know how else to describe it. It feels like everything heavy inside him has been deposited into the space between him and Jihoon and now they’re both suffocating in it.

 

Jihoon converses casually with Guanlin the whole time, his voice pleasant, cheerful, but Woojin hears the tightness in it. The nausea hasn’t abated.

 

When they land on Naidoo, Mayor Wahiti and Guanlin’s grandfather are waiting. Guanlin plants a big kiss on Jihoon’s cheek, refuses to say goodbye until Jihoon gives him a kiss too, then waves enthusiastically at them from his grandfather’s arms while promising that he’s going to become a Ranger just like Jihoon one day and join Wanna One.

 

Mayor Wahiti thanks them profusely, pays them their part of the reward, and offers them dinner with his family. After an awkward pause, Jihoon politely refuses.

 

They walk back onto the Sausage in silence, and Woojin hates more than anything the careful way Jihoon waits for Woojin to head down the corridor first instead of walking down together like they usually do, shoulders bumping. He just wishes Jihoon would say something, anything.

 

As they slip into their seats and their hands begin all the perfunctory, routine motions, the silence no longer feels stifling. It feels anticipatory, almost, like it’s waiting for something to happen instead of suffocating in things that have already happened.

 

Woojin finishes his part of starting up the sublight and offensive systems and he’s so distracted it takes him a full minute to realize that the Sausage isn’t moving.

 

When he glances over at Jihoon, the other is staring at him with an intensity Woojin usually only sees in the Kwoon Room. Jihoon has his hand on the yoke, but it seems almost as if he’s forgotten it’s there.

 

Flying the Sausage is a team effort. Woojin does his part, and Jihoon does his. But at end of the day Jihoon’s the pilot, and it’s Jihoon that gets the ship off the ground. And right now it’s Jihoon that’s keeping then grounded.

 

Jihoon isn’t doing anything except staring right back at him, and Woojin feels pinned under his gaze. He swallows, then opens his mouth to—to what? Jihoon, _please don’t break my heart?_ Jihoon, _please forget that I bared my whole soul to you and you dug your fingers in and wrung it like you were coaxing every last drop of water out of a sponge?_ Jihoon, _fuck you cause who the fuck does that to their best friend?_ Jihoon, _please just get this stupid ship off the ground so we can go home and I can cry into Daehwi’s shoulder and holocall Youngmin and Donghyun?_

 

But Jihoon beats him to it and says, voice steady, “I don’t want to fly the Sausage like this. This isn’t how we do things. We should talk about...” His voice trails off, losing its previous confidence, and his eyes finally dart away from Woojin.

 

Confrontation is not one of the many things that Jihoon’s good at. Woojin isn’t sure what to do with this Jihoon with the steady voice and unwavering gaze. Then Jihoon looks up and meets Woojin’s eyes again, and Woojin’s struck with the realization that this _is_ familiar. Jihoon being brave is something Woojin’s seen hundreds of times before.

 

“Okay,” Woojin says, because what else is he supposed to say?

 

“Okay,” Jihoon echoes. “Okay.”

 

Jihoon doesn’t continue, so Woojin says, “It’s your turn, I think.” Since, you know, Woojin’s already laid his soul bare and there isn’t a thing left to hide from Jihoon anymore.

 

“Right,” Jihoon starts. Then he tosses Woojin his Drift headgear with a grin. “I was trying to tell you something when we fell out of the Drift. Let me try again?”

 

When Woojin finds Jihoon in the in-between, Jihoon is a bright and pulsing warmth as always but this time, Woojin doesn’t meet any resistance as he lets himself spread into every corner of Jihoon’s mind.

 

Then, Jihoon brings to the forefront a rush of memory and feeling so powerful it sweeps Woojin off his feet. Suddenly he’s looking at himself, him glaring up from the Kwoon Room mat and demanding a rematch, him with his coveralls rolled down to his waist and his brows drawn together as he works on the Sausage, him all sleepy-eyed and rumpled in their shared bunk in the morning. Jihoon pulls Woojin through his— _their_ —memories with a ferocity and determination he usually reserves for flying, and one thought anchors Woojin in the whirlwind—

 

 _I love you too, stupid_.  

 

———————

 

When they land in the Wanna One hangar, Woojin’s almost reluctant to leave the warmth and openness of the Drift. But Jihoon’s real and solid an arms length away from him and the Drift is helpful but their bond has never been dependent on it. After all, they were the trainees that didn’t stop trying to knock each other out in the Kwoon Room until the score was something like 121-43 Jihoon and they were sweat-soaked and bone-tired but finally familiar with exactly what made each other tick.

 

They walk down the corridor together, shoulders bumping. The hatch begins sliding open with a soft hiss, but before they step out, Woojin hooks his fingers in Jihoon’s belt loops, walks him backwards until his back hits the wall, and kisses him senseless. When he finally pulls away, Jihoon’s flushed from his neck to his roots and there’s someone screaming at them.

 

Of course, it’s Daehwi, standing next to Jinyoung just outside of the Sausage, presumably here to welcome Woojin and Jihoon back. Daehwi looks torn between excitement and disgust, and Jinyoung wraps an arm around his waist comfortingly while raising a judging eyebrow at Jihoon.

 

Jihoon raises a judging eyebrow right back at him, because has _he_ managed to get together with _his_ copilot that he’s madly in love with yet? That’s right, no.

 

Jihoon's smile is probably a little too smug as he links his hand with Woojin’s and steps out of the Sausage, one more successful mission behind them and a whole new chapter of their lives ahead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for all scientific inaccuracies and for shamelessly butchering star wars lore for my own purposes!!!! pls yell at me about star wars, pacific rim, or marvel/the mcu (you can do this on [twitter](https://twitter.com/straylixed)!). thanks for reading! <3
> 
> bonus: years later, guanlin joins wanna one with his copilot seonho and they're known as the byeongaris.


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